Trial by Fire
by Oedipal Kat
Summary: Moral of this story: Full membership is bad. (If the thought-speech is missing, then FF.Net hasn't updated the fixed file yet.)
1. A Beginning

[**A/N: There's always a debate about how old these guys are. I think they're technically supposed to be in middle-school, but I cheated and made them juniors, because that's my author's prerogative -- and because, being a junior, I can write it more realistically. It's set before the story arc... basically, it has the same "plot" as the main series, but isn't set during any specific part of the timeline. Let's just say they've been fighting the Yeerks a few years now and not everything has gone exactly as KAA wrote it. She was misinformed or something, whatever. As far as my disclaimer, yes, I do own Animorphs, and I want a quarter anytime anybody reads one of the books. This means you. Thanks, and I expect my quarters soon.**]

  
_Am I really going to live like this?_ I shifted the backpack slung over my shoulder and dropped it to the ground with an echoing thud. One student out of the many packed into the cafeteria turned to look at me with a half-smile. Was she as new to this place as I was?

Impossible. It was one thing to go from a Homo sapiens school to another, or from sophomore year to junior; another thing to go from a Dalenian planet to this one. I sank into my seat with an uneasy twist of my shoulders. This felt wrong, completely, but I... needed...

What did I need? To forget? No, to keep busy. Roaming around in the Karaken forest wasn't going to cut it. Too much time to think.

Karaken? No, Earth. Get used to it now. Calling the planet my race titled Karaken "Earth" was another thing that felt wrong; I was used to calling my own planet Earth. And now I'd have to change.

I wasn't even the captain, I wasn't a warrior. I was just one little girl of Dalena. Why was I the one that escaped -- why not the captain, the emperor, someone who'd have a shot at marshalling enough firepower to save the others? I sank lower in my seat. The advantage to being just one more little girl was that I wouldn't be expected to go back. I could hide like a coward and I'd never have to face it again...

What was I supposed to do now? Eat something? Here? I didn't know what was in that stuff, but even normal humans seemed to be rejecting it. I let my head sink onto my folded arms and closed my eyes.

"Hey." A girl I vaguely recognized from the first class stared down at me with a cordial smile. "Who're you?"

I hesitated before pulling my fictional name out of my memory. "Kylie."

"Melissa." She stuck her hand out. Relieved that I knew the accepted response, I shook it firmly. "You're new this year."

"Absolutely." I tried to forget just how new. "You're a veteran?"

"Yeah. Daddy's the principal here." Her eyes flashed proudly, not arrogantly, just with a sort of pride in her father. That look was universal.

"Principal Chapman?"

"Yes." She jerked her head toward the place where the food was being served. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Not really."

She slid a round object at me. "Have an apple."

Apple. I lifted it and peered at the reddish exterior. Just bite a chunk out of it? What if it was as rock-solid as it looked? Casually, I dug one of my nails into it. Ah. Not so hard. I bit deep, more hungry than I'd realized.

Melissa, meanwhile, was pulling more human food out of a brown paper bag. I watched her, making note of what to do with each item; for some there were plastic forks, whereas others were simply to be eaten as the apple was.

"Junior year," she commented around a bite of meat. "I wonder how much harder it'll be. Where were you last year?"

"What school? Well, I come halfway from across the country, nearly."

"Really? What state?" She leaned forward, eyes glimmering.

"...North Dakota." I decided to improvise.

"What's it like?"

She had me there; I had no clue. "Cold." I laughed. "Not much to describe, really." _Is North Dakota really cold?_

Satisfied, she rocked back in her chair.

"So. Why're you making friends with the new kid?" If Karaken -- if Earth was anything like Dalena, new transfers were to be exiles in social circles until they'd proven themselves. Evidently humans had it a little easier... at least, I assumed.

Melissa shrugged. "We're in a class together. And you seemed interesting, pretty smart in Bio II, anyway."

"Heh heh..." I knew nothing about biology but the basics I'd gotten between naps in Dalena. I'd never been an overachieving student. Apparently, however, knowing the basics was enough. Maybe human classes were easier.

_Hey, what did you expect -- that you'd get a full test on Bio I within the first week?_ I reprimanded myself. _It's probably just because it's the first day. The classes will be plenty challenging._

Inventing a false transcript of my freshman and sophomore years had been quite a challenge, but I'd checked out the school files for an example, and reproduced it to the best of my ability. Add in a little luck... okay, a lot of luck. I'd still been able to influence people's thoughts, but now the ability had been permanently removed. I didn't want anything left to remind me of Dalena.

She peered at me. "You seem out of it," she said frankly.

"Oh, sorry." I snapped back to attention. "Any other classmates you could introduce me to?" I suggested, only half-joking. "I need all the help I can get adjusting to this place." Well, that much was true.

Melissa shrugged. "A few people. Are you into gymnastics?"

"Gymnastics?"

She screwed her face up in a grin. "Don't look so clueless... don't they have that in North Dakota?"

"Of course," I said quickly, "but I've just... never taken it. What's it like?"

"Are you flexible?"

"Reasonably." At least, I hoped my human body was flexible.

"I have a few friends on the team." Her eyes darkened.

The bell rang; she stood up; I followed suit. Two hour and a half classes left, since this was what they called "block schedule" - and that was what? Algebra II? That was it; according to my forged transcript I'd already taken Algebra I and Geometry. That much I could fake knowing. I'd been a good student in math on my homeworld...

I had to stop thinking of how I'd been there. "There" shouldn't even have existed anymore for me.

"What classes do you have this year, all in all?" Melissa asked me.

"Uh... Bio II, US History, lunch -- obviously" -- I reddened -- "Theatre Arts I, and Algebra II last."

"Cool, Algebra II last for me, too. With Johnson?"

I nodded.

"First and last class together, and same lunch," she remarked, surprised. "I don't think that happens often."

"Look at your good luck. You'll get to see me three times a day."

My dry wit drew a laugh from her. "I rejoice."

"Waitasec." She waved at a passing student. "Rachel!"

A blonde girl stopped, looking at us with startling blue eyes. We raised eyebrows at each other. "Melissa," she answered. "What's up?"

"Will you be at practice today?"

"Of course." Rachel attempted a warm smile, but it came out looking forced.

Melissa's eyes seemed hesitant, and I wasn't sure why. They were evidently friends - why then the almost desperate look? "This is Kylie. She's thinking about trying for the team."

_I am?_ I blinked.

"Hey, Kylie. Nice to meet you."

Her tone was very polite and very cold. There wasn't any malice... just not any interest, either. I smiled, with equal politeness, a little disappointed. "Likewise, Rachel."

"Gotta go," she said. "Next class: Theatre Arts. Mr. Halstead has fits if his students are late."

"Hey, my class too," I pointed out, a little too eagerly. "Can you show me where it is?"

She shrugged. "Sure. Tag along."

I took a deep breath, switched my backpack to my other shoulder, and followed.


	2. The Animorphs Together

I continued shifted my backpack from shoulder to shoulder, following Rachel as she made her way down the halls. She hadn't said another word to me. That didn't bother me; what bothered me was why Melissa had befriended me. At first I'd considered the idea that it was a normal human benevolence towards new transfers, but if so, why hadn't anyone else ventured near me? Why hadn't Rachel bothered to speak? I felt uneasy, out of place, which was understandable, after all...

"When did you move here?" Rachel asked me in her clipped voice.

"Oh... um, last week or so?" I offered, trying to remember whether or not I'd told Melissa when I came. "My... father was transferred to this area."

Rachel was unnerving. The confidence level she radiated was almost alarming, completely different from Melissa or any other students I'd observed. She seemed completed by something, like she wasn't searching for the part of herself adolescents on Dalena and probably adolescents here still hadn't found.

I was trying to find it. The war on Dalena, working myself up the military ranks, focusing on my education and putting it to good use -- I'd thought I could throw myself into all of that and I'd finally feel secure, safe from some undefinable fear. But that was pretty much shot.

I'd defined my fear, though. My fear was monotony. My fear was normalcy. I didn't want to work a normal job as a merchant at an international or even interplanetary trade center. I didn't want to work as a custodian or a clerk in charge of records at some prosperous business. I didn't want to instruct young bored Dalenites on theories and facts. I didn't even really want to be a scientist. I wanted the military, sure -- but I didn't want to die.

I hadn't and didn't know what I wanted. _But,_ I thought to myself, looking around, _it's safe to say it wasn't this._

Dalena literature sometimes had a young Dalenite venturing to another planet, or being thrown into another planet, or being enslaved on another planet. That Dalenite always had a clue. I didn't. I had no clue. I didn't feel confident and I wasn't going to return to my homeworld in triumph. I had no cause.

No cause! That rankled in my soul. I had nothing to fight for. I didn't even have anything to _fight_.

"Here's the classroom," my escort announced. Catching sight of my nervous face, she generously added, "You can sit with me. Come on."

As I walked along, I felt like her shadow, or possibly a dog on a leash.

A short black girl nodded at us. "Hey, Rach."

"Hey, Cassie." Rachel nodded back, indicating a chair I gratefully sank into. "This is..." She paused. "What's your name again?"

There was nothing derrogatory about her tone, but I felt embarrassed anyway. "Kylie."

"Kylie," Rachel repeated. "Well, Cass, this is Kylie."

"Nice name," Cassie said, with a warm smile. It comforted me a little. I chanced a smile in return.

"She just transferred from..." Another pause, and then Rachel chuckled. "I've got to stop saying starting sentences I can't finish. Where'd you come from, Kylie?"

"North Dakota," I recited. "My father transferred here. He's in the military."

"Hey, cool," exclaimed Rachel, her ice blue eyes lighting up. "What branch? What's his position?"

I blinked twice, completely unaware of how to answer, and then second bell saved me. I'd figured out that at the first bell, students had to start shuffling to their classrooms; at the second bell, if they weren't in their seats yet, they were late. I was proud of myself for gathering this information.

"Class has begun," the drama teacher announced. Mr. Halstead was a sandy-haired man, with an impeccably white T-shirt under a short-sleeved flannel shirt that hung from his bony shoulders. Five long, thin fingers ended long, thin arms. His angular form would have made for a severe appearance if not for his eyes, which gleamed jovially at the thirty or so students seated five to a table.

Those eyes instantly picked me out. "Kylie! I heard I'd be getting a new student. What school did you transfer here from?"

_Yeah, what school am I from? I have to work that out..._ "I'm from North Dakota," I answered, after a brief pause.

"What part?"

Panic rose. "Near... the southeastern... part?"

He nodded. "Interesting. Well, welcome to the school, Kylie. Jake, could you grab a book for her from that stack?" He indicated a pile of thick books placed one on top of another on a shelf against the wall. A boy close to them rose to grab one, then brought it over to me. He shared a smile with the dark-skinned girl at my table -- a smile so fast you could hardly see it if you weren't looking at him. He headed back to his seat.

I saw Rachel stifle a snicker. Cassie's lips were turned upward in a wide grin she was trying to control. I was confused. If the two humans cared for each other, why not discuss an arrangement of marriage with their parents? They couldn't be much older than I was -- certainly it was acceptable by that age. I considered voicing my question, but decided it probably wasn't that good of an idea. Observation would probably provide the answer and I'd endured enough embarrassment for one day already.

"Turn to page forty-two of your books," Mr. Halstead said. I obeyed, and found myself staring at an extremely ugly human. A swollen nose, thick eyebrows, and a wide, red mouth with yellowed teeth glared back at me, captured in the photo wearing a perpetual grin. "Let's review. How were masks used in ancient Greek theatre?"

Rachel raised her hand. "To make characteristics more exaggerated and easily seen from the audience."

"Good. What was another use? Cassie?"

"To identify stock characters," she responded, glancing down at her neatly handwritten notes.

"And stock characters are?" He scanned the classroom for a raised hand and, not finding one, settled his gaze on a Hispanic guy who had to be even shorter than Cassie. "Marco?"

Pause. Pause.

"Marco?" The teacher looked exasperated, and Jake elbowed his classmate in the ribs.

"1942," he said immediately, snapping up his hand in a salute. "Sir!"

The class laughed, partially from the joke and partially from his infectious grin. Mr. Halstead rolled his eyes. "Do your sleeping on your own time, Marco. What are stock characters?"

"I'm really not sure, sir!"

Halstead glared. "Then look it up in your notes."

"He hasn't taken notes since the first day of class, sir!" a guy across the table from him mocked.

Covertly, Jake slid his own notes over towards Marco. Marco waved them at the guy. "Have too," he said smugly. "Stock characters are characters that reoccur in different plays. Like... Harlequeen?"

"Harlequin," coughed Jake.

"Harlequin," Marco corrected himself.

"Very nice," Mr. Halstead said dryly. "Here we have a prime example of teamwork, ladies and gentlemen. Keep in mind that teamwork isn't allowed on the tests."

"Yes, sir!"

"That's getting old."

"Yes, sir!" Marco saluted again, waited until Mr. Halstead turned around, and handed the notes back to Jake.

Rachel was smirking. I looked at her. "Friends of yours...?"

The mirth evaporated from her face. "I don't know Marco that well," she answered, "but Jake's my cousin."

"Oh."

It might have been my imagination, but she and Cassie seemed to studiously avoid looking in that direction for the rest of the class.

When the bell rang again, after an hour and a half of questions and lectures on the techniques in human theatre and the history of human theatre, the bell clanged again. I stood up, eager and uneasy, and Cassie smiled at me a little. "What's your next class, Kylie?"

"Algebra II." I hefted the bookbag onto my shoulder. "I'll see you later."

"See you," she said with a little wave.

I paused outside the door for no real reason. I could hear Cassie talking to Rachel in a hushed tone as they gathered their books. "We don't want a lot of people to make that mistake."

"I know," Rachel muttered in response. "It's the first time we've all been in a class together, though. I guess we're still not used to it."

"Yeah, well --"

They rounded the corner and nearly smacked into me. I dropped a pencil, startled, and without a word Rachel picked it up and handed it back.

"Clumsy," I mumbled.

"See you, Kylie," Rachel said, a little coldly. She and Cassie moved past.

I sighed and leaned against one of the lockers lining the hall for a moment, sad and lonely. I couldn't really define why I wanted human approval so much, but not having it made me feel isolated... even more isolated than I actually was. Which was a lot. I rested my forehead against the cold metal.

"Hey."

The voice startled me. The pencil twitched again and Melissa caught it as it rolled off my books.

"Nice reflexes," I said, impressed.

"Thanks." She smiled. "I didn't know if you knew where the classroom was, so I thought I'd come and help you find it."

A lead weight lifted from my chest as my loneliness vanished. I wished I knew if an impulsive hug was acceptable in human culture. "Thanks, Melissa," I said sincerely. I wondered if she knew how much her simple gesture had meant to me.

"No problem." Her smile grew into a grin. "Come on."


	3. The Joy of Pepsi

[**A/N: This is not going to be M/K slash. Kylie's just possessive of her friends. I thought I'd clear that up after giving this thing a once-over. With that said, read on!**]

"So this is your mall," I said, a little nervously, looking around. I hadn't seen this many people crammed into one place since the battle ship I'd been dragged on with my father. Not a comparison I really wanted to make. I gulped.

"This is our mall." Melissa looked proud. "Big, isn't it? Hey, are you hungry?"

I blinked twice, trying to decide. "Sure?"

"Come on. The Amazon Cafe has some great stuff." She started walking quickly to the left. I followed, a little discombobulated. I kept my eyes on Melissa instead of the rush of people around us. She was enjoying this. I wondered if she had a lot of friends, and determined to ask as soon as it was tactful. For some reason, being just another of her friends among many bothered me.

"This place," she said, pointing ahead.

"Is it cust... is it normal to have wildlife inhabiting the marketplace...?"

She laughed as if I'd made a joke. Maybe I had. I was too confused to know.

We were seated, and handed a small book that listed foods. Next to each was a series of numbers. Price. Panic hit me. I had no Earth money. I'd been an idiot.

As if reading my mind, Melissa commented, "I love their salads here. By the way, I'm paying -- you know, taking out the new girl."

I smiled. "Thanks," I said gratefully. "So, tell me about this place."

"The restaurant or the mall?"

"The city."

"Oh." She laid her menu down, looking thoughtful. "The school's nice -- Dad's the vice principal, and he really does a good job. The mall's big, always a plus. Good to go shopping in."

"What's the normal... shopping... experience... here?" I was making little to no sense.

She shrugged. "Probably the same as in North Dakota. Take some friends, head to the mall, shop, try on stuff. Buy stuff."

"Friends?" I frowned slightly. "Who do you go with?"

Melissa lowered her eyes. "I... sometimes people from gymnastics..."

"Like Rachel?"

"We used to."

"Why don't you anymore?"

Swallowing, she replied, "I don't think she likes me that much anymore. She's really cold, distant. Like something happened to her, and I don't know what. I don't know whether to ask and I don't know if she'd tell me, anyway."

"Oh." I felt rejected, for some odd reason. I shrugged and picked the menu back up. "What do you recommend?"

Seeming glad for the change of subject, she leaned across the table and indicated the spaghetti. "That. 'S good."

"What is it?"

She looked blank for a moment. "You don't know what spaghetti is? Don't they have that in North Dakota?"

The blood rushed to my face. "I've never tried it."

"You've never even _heard_ of it?"

Embarrassed, I shook my head. She laughed.

"It's like..." She waved her hands vaguely in a circular motion. "Noodles and tomato sauce and meat and stuff."

_Noodles? Tomatoes?_ I wondered. Meat, I knew. "I'll try that," I said, nonchalantly closing the menu. "So, what do you do for fun here, besides shopping?"

She was looking at a man approaching the table. I glanced at him, wondering why she was staring. He stopped just beside me. "May I take your drink order?"

"Pepsi. And actually, I think we're ready," Melissa answered. "I'll have the garden salad with Thousand Island dressing."

They both looked at me. I swallowed. "I'll have the spaghetti?"

"What kind of bread?"

I stared at Melissa.

"Their garlic bread's good," she offered.

"Yes. That."

He wrote it down. "Your drink?"

I tried to remember what Melissa had said. "Pepcid?"

Melissa was restraining a laugh. The man looked astonished for a moment, then tried to clarify: "Pepsi?"

"Yes. That," I repeated. "Right," he said, picking up our menus. He left.

Melissa giggled slightly. "Pepcid?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

Something told me not to ask, so I left that alone. I cleared my throat and decided to repeat my earlier question. "So, what do you do for fun here, besides shopping?"

"I do gymnastics... tennis, but I'm not really that good at it." _What in the world are those?_ "I'm starting to get into a cool organization, too."

"What organization? What do they do?"

"They're the Sharing. They help people, you know, 'building a better life.' Lots of community service. It looks absolutely great on an application to college -- shows you care about the environment and underprivileged and whatnot. It's cool. You should get into it. Great way to meet people."

The man was back with our drinks. They had small, hollow white cylinders sticking out of them. As he set mine down in front of me, I blinked in confusion. I watched Melissa, who closed her lips over the cylinder. Brown liquid shot up it, presumably into her mouth.

Hesitantly, I lifted the glass, sticking the cylinder in my mouth yet leaving it in the liquid as a pathway. I waited for the liquid to flow upwards. It didn't. Once again I was left confused.

I watched her more closely. Judging by the slight indentation in her cheeks, she was _sucking_ on the cylinder. I tried that.

My eyes went wide. She wasn't reacting -- why not? The sweetness! Even better than the apple I'd had at lunch. Was this a normal thing for humans, this ecstasy? I controlled myself, but drank more rapidly.

She put her drink down. Regretfully, I followed suit.

"Do you think you'll join?"

"Huh?"

She frowned at me.

"Oh, the Sharing?" I considered. "Maybe. When's the next meeting?"

"There's one tonight... I'm thinking of becoming a full member. That'd look good on a transcript, too. Sort of like showing the college you apply to that you're really serious about it." She shrugged, a little self-consciously. "I mean... plus, Dad's really active in it, and he might like it if I joined. Sort of something we had in common. Maybe we'd spend more time together."

"Don't families spend a lot of time together anyway?" Yet again I felt the now-familiar confusion. My father and I had been very close. All Dalenite families were.

She shrugged again. "Sometimes. Anyway. Do you want to come? They have some kind of barbecue going on tonight -- should be pretty fun. Chicken wings and ribs and drinks and all that."

"Pepsi?"

She nodded.

"Then I'm there." I took another quick sip. "Just give me directions."


	4. A Sharing Meeting

Loud music. Cool breeze. Green grass. Falling twilight. Human park. I looked around. So this was a Sharing barbecue. Now, where was Melissa?

My question seemed answered when I felt a touch on my arm. I turned around, expecting to see Melissa, but instead I saw a young human offering me a white plate with some greasy meat oozing on it. "Ribs?"

Not a second too soon, I remembered that not only were ribs a part of human anatomy, they were also a food. Melissa had implied this earlier by grouping it with chicken. I reached out my hand a little hesitantly. "Sure. How much are they?"

He smiled. "The Sharing's giving this barbecue free of charge," he explained. "The full members funded it."

I stared at the red gooey stuff on the white plate. "Oh? Full members?"

"Yeah." He set down one of the plates he was carrying on a nearby picnic table and shoved his hand at me. "I'm Tom Berenson."

Ah. A handshake. I knew how to do that. I gripped his hand firmly and moved it slightly up and down. "Kylie."

Tom quirked an eyebrow. "Like Kylie Minogue?"

From the tone of his voice, I guessed it was a joke -- though I had no idea what the joke was -- so I laughed. "Like Kylie Johnson." Johnson was a common name; I'd learned this. Thus, it was a safe one to use.

"Ah. Oh well. Minogue's music is good," he offered.

"Yep." _Right. Okay._ "This your first meeting?"

"Yeah, it is. What's the Sharing like?"

"It's a great opportunity. You should join."

"I have a feeling every organization says that."

"But we mean it." He grinned.

I suddenly felt uneasy; maybe it was the cold eyes in his smiling face. Forcing a smile, I waved. "I need to going, and find Melissa. I'll see you later."

"Melissa Chapman?"

"Yeah. Do you know her?"

"Sure. Her dad's really active in the Sharing."

"So she said."

"She's probably somewhere near him." He scrunched his eyebrows a little as he looked around. "Hey, there she is. That picnic table. Looks like she saved you a seat."

"Thanks. Tom, was it?"

"Yeah. Tom. See you."

I paused, feeling like I was forgetting something. Then it came to me: _Oh, yeah. Pepsi. That's half the reason I'm here._ "Where are the drinks?"

With a jerk of his thumb, he indicated the tables to my right. "Should be everything you need, right over there."

"Thanks again." I made my way over, scanning the labels until I found one bearing a Pepsi logo. "Yay," I muttered to myself, pouring it into one of the white cups they'd supplied.

"Want any ice?"

I hadn't realized he was behind me. "No thanks. I'm fine."

With that, I took off, heading for Melissa. Tom's eyes had scared me. There was something dark inside them. I didn't know what, but I didn't have time to think about it.

"Hey, Kylie!" Melissa hollered over the music. She pointed at the empty space on the bench Tom had been referring to. "Sit. Sit. Dad's about to say something. He always gets that look on his face when he is."

"Mr. Chapman?"

"Yeah. Dad." She beamed with pride. "I was afraid you weren't going to show."

I set down the plate and the cup. "And miss the Pepsi?" She'd think I was joking, but I'd never been more serious in my life.

Melissa laughed. "Yeah, that's why everyone comes. The Pepsi."

An authoritative voice boomed suddenly I could see several adults standing together, and the man at the front, who apparently had an incredible talent for yelling, was speaking, loudly enough for everyone to hear him.

"Welcome, everyone! Welcome. The Sharing appreciates all of you being here. To thank for this barbecue, we have the full members to thank, among them Tom Berenson, who'll be speaking to you at this time." He stepped back, and the boy from earlier took his place, a wide grin on his face. From this far away, I couldn't see his eyes -- and I was glad.

"Tonight," he said, and got a loud screech in response. He cleared his throat. "Technical difficulties, just a moment."

"What was that?" I hissed at Melissa.

"Mike feedback. Shhh."

Only then did I notice the speakers that must have been set up for the occasion -- since I doubted human parks just had them as a permanent fixture. Tom, unlike Chapman, was holding a small black stick with a ball at the end. A mike?

He started speaking again. "Tonight is a wonderful opportunity for the Sharing to reach out to the community. I hope to see you all at our meetings. We'd love to show you what the Sharing is all about: caring for others and for our environment. If you're looking for a place to fit in, a good cause to pursue, I invite you all -- come check out our meeting a week from today, Wednesday, at six o'clock. We'll be in our standard building. Directions can be found over there, near the food -- since we figure that's where everyone will be gathering." He offered a playful smirk, and most of the people present laughed in response. "Seriously, the Sharing is an excellent organization, and what it stands for is relevant to each and every person here: building a better life. We've got a lot of dedicated people here to listen to you if you're upset and give you support if you need it. Not only can you help people -- we can help you, too. So drop by Wednesday -- come find out what we're all about!"

A roar of applause started with the adults and spread all over the park. I found myself caught up in it too. _I think I need that._

Melissa leaned over to whisper in my ear. "I'm becoming a full member tonight," she said softly. "Daddy and I are going over to the main building. I asked him -- he said that if you were interested in membership, too, that would be great."

"Seriously?" Once again, I was touched by her generosity -- and her father's. I needed someone to care about me like this. "Thanks, Melissa. I'd love to."

"What'll you tell your parents?"

How could I tell her that I lived in a shack in the woods? "I'll... call them," I improvised. Eventually the reality of my life would have to be faced, but not yet. I changed the subject. "I can't wait to meet your father. I know he's the vice principal, but I haven't really met him yet."

"Tom'll be there too," she added. "He's Jake's brother. Jake is cute."

"I have a class with Jake, I think. Theatre."

"Cute?"

"Sure." _What makes a human cute? I've heard them say puppies are cute because they're cuddly and furry but Jake isn't furry... or cuddly..._ Once again, I was confused. I'd have to find a way to tactfully get her to explain. Sometime.

"When are you all going to the main building?"

"As soon as we finish eating -- me and Daddy, and you, too. Dad normally stays to help clean up but he said this was really important." Her eyes sparkled. "So you're coming?"

"Wouldn't miss it." I chanced a bite of the ribs. "These are good."

"Yeah." She looked around. "It's really a chance to... change something, you know? Make a difference?"

"I thought this was about college for you."

"It was. But Dad called it 'really important.' He called going to the main building with me 'really important.' I can't remember the last time he..." She swallowed. "It'll be fun, too," she said abruptly. "Something you and I can do together."

"Yeah. Hey, Melissa?" I added, around a mouthful of meat.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for everything."

She smiled, and hugged me lightly around the shoulders. "Anytime."


	5. Infestation

I was not completely sure how capable Chapman was of maneuvering a human vehicle, but judging by the number of rude gestures we received, he was driving improperly.

"Um... Dad? Shouldn't we slow down?"

"No time to waste," her father answered cheerfully, swinging in front of an oddly shaped car with a hollow back.

"Dad, that truck just flipped you off," Melissa pointed out. "I don't think we're driving all that safely."

I could see Chapman's hands twitching on the wheel; I could see his red face. His bloodshot eyes, or at least what I could see of them reflected in the rearview mirror, were insane.

"Melissa, honey, Daddy needs to use the facilities," he grated.

She blinked. "Oh. Sorry."

"Yeah." The car went faster, if possible.

_Use the facilities for what?_ I considered asking my question, but decided that I'd settle for living through the car ride.

Chapman put his hand over hers -- thus piloting with only one hand, which really did nothing for my optimistic hopes of survival. "I really am glad you want to become a full member, Melissa. It'll be a great chance for us to spend more time together."

Melissa looked at his hand. "Dad..."

I shifted in the back seat so I could see what she was staring at -- the hand was spasming. So, I noticed, was his left ear. The side of his face towards Melissa was normal, but I wondered what the left half looked like. Unfortunately, as it was close to the window, I had no room to look. Chapman suddenly hunched over, withdrawing his hand and clenching his jaw muscles. His face stopped twitching.

_How did this man ever become an assistant principal? He's crazy!_

"The cops are going to pull you over," Melissa resumed, after a moment, as if not knowing what else to say. "Where are the cops, anyway? Man. They'd find _me_ if I drove like this."

"You only have your shhhhermit." His speech suddenly slurred, and then became halting. "I'm a... licensed... driver."

"So, you're saying you're licensed to drive like this?" Suddenly she stopped dead. "Dad... were you drinking...?"

He grunted in response. "Of course n... maybe a... little," he muttered. "I... Melissa... _Melissa_!"

_Please just let us make it into a parking space,_ I silently begged our demented driver. Ahead of us, Tom, having come to take part in the induction ceremony, was pulling into the lot.

Suddenly Chapman's hands jerked the wheel. As we entered the parking lot behind Tom, the car swerved sharply and crashed through the brightly colored "Welcome to the Sharing" sign. Melissa screamed; I cowered, thrown across the back seat.

The vehicle screeched to a halt. All three of us pitched forward; Chapman and Melissa were hurled against the human safety restraints, but I hadn't worn one, so I just hit the back of their seats.

Melissa and I were frozen. I was seriously rethinking my decision to join this lunatic's organization.

Chapman whimpered, shaking. He fixed his eyes on Melissa and moaned in a low, guttural voice.

"Daddy...?"

"_Run_!"

Then his right hand slapped his own face. "You idiot!" he roared. "You've only made it certain! Certain, Chapman, do you hear me? You are ours! She is ours!"

Melissa hit a button on her door. The car locks surrendered and we stumbled out.

"He's crazy," I panted. Then I fell. Something hit me hard from behind, and all I saw was the dark smile of Tom Berenson.

* * *

"Unh," I mumbled.

[Good morning, Kylie. Slept well?]

"Yaaaaah!" I jerked hard on the cold floor, but only about half as far as I'd intended to. My limbs slid back to where they'd been, and slowly my upper body rose, putting me in a sitting position. My hands placed themselves on the floor to keep me upright.

I tried to scream. The voice chuckled. [Bad Kylie. _My_ vocal chords.]

[What the --] I stopped dead, realizing I had not even spoken audibly -- just in a silent cry.

[I know, I know, it really is disconcerting. But on the bright side, you're a full member now!]

[Melissa!] I shouted.

[She can't hear you.] I felt my eyes turn to stare at her, seemingly of their own accord. She was waking up, her body mechanically moving to assume a position similar to mine on the warehouse floor. Her eyes were glazed. Her arms and legs twitched.

_Twitched._ [Chapman,] I guessed. [You're in his head, too.]

[Not completely correct,] it answered, [but astute nonetheless. One of us is in his head, yes. We're called Yeerks. Garden slugs, really. A garden slug is your master, ha-ha. How does it feel?]

[Garden slug?]

It paused. [You don't know what a slug is? They're everywhere on this planet.]

I was silent, but apparently that didn't matter; I felt it tearing through my mind. [Aaah! Stop!]

He ignored me. Suddenly, I felt like something had stiffened around my brain. Its voice was shaky with excitement. [The hell!]

It knew, I realized. And it laughed. [Yes! Every Yeerk's dream come true -- a unique host body! Let's see what secrets fill your mind, Dalenite!] It rummaged cheerfully through my mind. [Sycaili? Si-ky-lee. Nice name, really. I've never heard of these Dalenites, but apparently they're gone anyway -- pity; one less set of host bodies. Very moving history, there. Well, consider it a life lesson,] it added, closing my memories for the moment. [This planet belongs to us. If other aliens come, we'll conquer them too. Like I have conquered you.]

[What is a slug?] I demanded weakly, refusing to understand what it was talking about. Or maybe just incapable of understanding.

[Easier to show you than tell you.] A picture zapped into my mind: a grey, slime-covered glob, really; hideous and apparently flexible enough to curl around a brain. To curl around _my_ brain. _Disgusting,_ I thought. I felt revulsion.

But it felt revulsion, too, revulsion for itself, and that didn't surprise me as much as it maybe should have -- _I know what self-hatred is_, I thought bitterly.

[No, you don't,] it snapped, evidently reading my mind. [You don't, Kylie -- Sycaili -- the Dalenite turned human.]

[Who are you?]

[I have no designation.] It considered. [But since you don't know anything about Yeerks anyway, you don't know what the significance of that is.]

I waited, but it didn't continue. [What is it, then?] I tried to probe its memories. It laughed at me again.

[The involuntary information flows only one way. You know nothing except what I give you.]

[But you know everything about me,] I argued. [I have a right to know something about you.]

[Yeerks don't believe in justice. We believe in facts, so let me give you a few facts.] It paused to gather its thoughts. [Hmm. Well. You are a slave. My slave, specifically. You will never run, walk, crawl, stand, or sit on your own again. You will never have an unsupervised thought. I will laugh at and mock you every second of your life. I would destroy your family if you still had one. I am evil. You exist to serve me and I will make your life hell.]

[Because yours is?]

It snorted. [Sure. Because mine is. At any rate -- once every three days I will feed on Kandrona rays in the Yeerk pool below the ground of this place] -- a picture of a cavern filled my consciousness, an illustration for his speech -- [and you will be free, for a minute or two. Sort of. Chained and caged and all that, but you'll have access to your own neurological centers, which is something, isn't it?]

I made no response. It seemed surprised. [You're taking this well,] it observed. [Wait. Hah. You're relieved! You don't want to make choices anymore, do you? You've screwed up enough. You're glad to surrender your control, you weak fool.]

Still no response. Still no concession. I wasn't being strong. I was just too numb to answer.

[Well, give it a few days.] My parasite's warning was indifferent. [Your apathy won't last long.]


	6. Introductions

[Why am I still lying down? Why aren't I going anywhere?] I wanted to say "we" -- since there was no longer a clear line between the Yeerk and me -- but that felt wrong.

[Color,] the Yeerk said a little dreamily, ignoring me. [I haven't seen it for... months. Not since I saw it with my own four eyes.]

[Yeerks have four eyes?]

There was a moment of silence. [Yes.]

[But there weren't any in the picture of a Yeerk that you showed me.]

[They're very small.]

[You're lying.]

[I generally am.] He moved my arms up over my head, stretching. [The power.]

[Just a weak human girl.]

[Hah! Compare it to a slug! Stupid human, you don't know what you have.]

It felt right to be called a human, suddenly -- I was relieved. [What is... why... if Yeerks have four eyes why haven't you seen color in four months?]

[Nothing gets past you,] he mocked.

He raised my eyes -- his eyes -- to Melissa. She spoke.

"Zahir eight-five-one, are you in control of your host?"

"Of course."

[I thought you had no designation.]

[I killed another Yeerk to get a host. That's his designation. Or was.]

[How does a slug kill a slug?]

[By bludgeoning him against a jagged corner of the wall of the pool,] he said coldly. [Any other questions?]

[Impressive.]

[I'm resourceful.] He spoke through my mouth. "And you, Iniss one-eight-three?"

"Completely in control. Quite ironic that I and the Yeerk in her human father formed from the same union of three," Melissa responded.

[Union of three?] I was fascinated.

[Yeerk mating. Three Yeerks come together and bits bleed off, forming into grubs. Now shut up. I have more pressing things to worry myself with.]

Melissa's Yeerk continued. "I see that Iniss two-two-six encountered resistance from his host at the infestation?"

"In the human car, yes. Chapman is a strong host, but he was eventually broken," my Yeerk told her after quickly scanning my memories.

I saw the line of Melissa's mouth wavering. She was fighting her Yeerk. [Remarkably astute,] Zahir mocked. [So why aren't you, Kylie?]

[I couldn't beat you -- what's the point?]

[What's the point?] he demanded, suddenly irate. [To resist! Of course, you stupid fool, to resist! To know that you tried! Self-respect, if nothing else!]

[You just want to see me lose.]

He sighed, and resumed conversation with Melissa. With the Melissa-Yeerk. "Let's report. Sub-visser seventy-eight is no doubt waiting."

"Indeed."

My body spun. "Sub-visser," Zahir acknowledged, inclining my head, but not before I recognized Tom.

[Sub-vis --]

[It's a rank! Shut up!]

[Higher than yours?]

I was ignored.

"I will be taking you home, Zahir. The Chapmans will be driven by another of us. Iniss two-two-six's host is far too unstable for us to permit him to drive on his own. In all likelihood, Chapman would crash the car."

"And kill his daughter?"

Tom laughed. "He believes death is better than slavery."

"Good for him," my voice said dismissively.

"I'll need directions to the host's home."

Zahir paused, flipping through my memories until he found the obvious: [No address? No house? A run-down little shack? Great. My living conditions will be splendid.]

What he said out loud was, "She lives near the Chapmans. Drive all of us, and I will walk to her house."

The sub-visser accepted this. "Come," he said to the two Yeerks. Their new bodies obeyed.

[Why didn't you tell him?]

[Politics. I have a low rank, eight hundred and fifty-one units below the lowest sub-visser. If your lack of a human home was exposed, there would be questions -- leading to your race being exposed.]

[But for all purposes I'm human!]

[Hah,] he snapped. [They'd want to see what you know of technology, tactics, science, find out how advanced the Dalenites were. They're not going to give an eight-five-one a host like that.]

[I'm a kid. I know nothing. And what do you care what host you have?]

[I don't. But you, the first host I've taken, know I have no designation and that I killed one of my own. If you were infested, your new Yeerk would see this in your memories.]

[But that means --]

[Yes. Exactly. For my own safety, I have to remain in you as long as I live, forever, and other such dramatic phrases.]

We were at the car; my body slid in the front seat. I felt my hands touch the fabric of the seat. [Touch,] the Yeerk groaned. [After so long...]

Melissa and her father were both in the back. Chapman was shaking. "To the house," Tom said coldly, twisting the key in the ignition. "I trust you are both satisfied with your hosts."

Melissa nodded. She looked at me. "Zahir?"

"Quite," agreed my voice. 


End file.
